


Feast On Me

by LadyAmalthea



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Connor (Detroit: Become Human) Has a Vagina, First Time, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Moving In Together, Porn With Plot, Thanksgiving, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-22
Updated: 2018-11-22
Packaged: 2019-08-27 20:31:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16709518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyAmalthea/pseuds/LadyAmalthea
Summary: Just over a year after the revolution, things have returned to a relative normal in Detroit. Androids have all been receiving upgrades that allow them to properly feel human, including eating. As a unique prototype, it takes longer for Connor to have the same functions installed, just in time for a Thanksgiving meal at 115 Michigan.





	Feast On Me

**Saturday**

**November 19th, 2039**

**Noon**

  
  


“All right, Connor… we’ll be shutting you down temporarily before the procedure starts, so do you have any questions before we get started?” 

 

Connor shook his head before standing up, giving his work partner a weak smile and a wave as he was followed the technician to one of the modified diagnostic rooms. The tower on Belle Island had become a landmark for androids, quickly converting it into a center for career development, diplomacy meetings, repairs and upgrades. 

 

It had been just over a year since the revolution, and Hank couldn’t believe he kept himself alive long enough to see it all. Sentient machines, happy and free, roaming around like they had always been that way.  Most anyone who was still in Detroit only came back if they absolutely had to, or if they wanted to be a part of the integrated city. It had taken time, almost the whole year, for things to feel like this.   
  
“Hank, would you like to have some coffee with me while you wait?”  He turned to see Markus, the bright-eyed leader who looked like some kind of men’s fashion model. Hank followed, a little awkwardly, down the hallway to the over-decorated sitting area down the long hallway.

 

He could feel Markus’s eyes on him as they approached a small counter with an array of hot beverage options and snacks. “So… Connor’s the last one to get this done?”

 

The procedure in question was one that Connor had waited a long time to have. Multiple body upgrades were tested and installed to help androids with a growing dysmorphia. They could feel the feelings of a human, but since they lacked the biological functions, it wasn’t long before many of them started self-destructing. So, countermeasures were put into place. They started with the more standard, common models: housekeeping and retail service androids. Sleeping, smelling, tasty and eating; each new advancement rolled out slowly but surely.

 

But Connor’s case had been… more challenging. 

 

The first issue being that he was a prototype who was only designed to integrate with humans to an extent. His social protocols were far more nuanced, but his body was built for strength, speed and dexterity. The genitalia that came with Traci’s and companion androids were easy enough to be duplicated and installed, but the RK800 model was so different that it took much longer to map out what could be moved or replaced.

 

So finally, almost 4 months after most other androids had been modified, it was finally his turn.

 

“Yes he is. Connor’s been more than patient to wait his turn until we could get everything ready for him. Some of this stuff has been ready for about a while, but because of the hectic nature of the precinct lately, he opted to have it all done at once,” Markus explained, pressing a button on the hot water dispenser to drown the tea bag in his cup. Hank, on the other hand, was already halfway through a black cup of joe.

 

“He has more than enough time off saved up, but there have been some rough cases lately,” Hank explained.

 

“Connor puts his responsibilities well before himself;” a new voice, crisper and feminine, came from behind them. The cords and wires of various colors cascaded from her head like thick dreadlocks and braids, connecting to a rolling unit that she pushed with her right hand.   
  
Markus turned to her fondly, placing a greeting kiss on her cheek. “Hank, this is our resident android psychologist, and one of the oldest members of Jericho, Lucy.”

 

She bowed her head to the human and he shyly waved back. “Connor speaks of you often, Lieutenant Anderson,” she said, moving slowly to take a seat in a large armchair.

 

“Please, just Hank. I’m not working right now,” Hank sat on the couch across from her, finding himself entranced and yet embarrassed from staring at her. He didn’t even notice how Markus made a smooth exit from the room. “So you talk to my partner a lot?”

 

Lucy looked at him, almost fondly. “Yes. We keep regular appointments, and I’ve been mandated by your captain to perform mental health evaluations for him.”

 

Shifting on the couch cushion beneath him, Hank nodded. “I guess that makes sense. Wouldn’t be the same as going to a human psych-doc, huh?” It suddenly dawned on Hank that Lucy probably knew everything about him just from talking to Connor; about Cole, his drinking, pulling a gun on Connor before he went deviant. The thought didn’t sit well in his stomach, despite the new android’s kind and soft demeanor around him.

 

“You are very good for him, Hank.”

 

The sudden laugh that came from his mouth was a little too loud, “I think you mean that ‘he’s good for me’... yeah?”

 

“No,” she corrected, “Connor thrives on goals and directives. Even though he deviated, there are aspects of his personality that makes him enjoy having something to work on. In this case, it is improving the quality of life for someone he cares about.” 

 

“Huh… so that’s why he wants me to meal plan and go to AA meetings?” Hank asked, the last drip of coffee going down his throat as he tilted the cup up.

 

Lucy gave him a wide smile, “and have you?” She asked, already knowing the answer: no.

 

Connor had sent him a few recommendations, some were closer to Hank’s home but with fewer members, some didn’t even require a sponsor. But Hank refused. This was one vice that he’d be keeping around for a long time, even if he did cut back dramatically. There were still many mornings since the revolution, and even before Connor re-joined the police force, that he would find Hank passed out on the couch with his beard sticky with whiskey. 

 

“Do  _ you _ think I should?” Hank asked, getting up to refill his coffee cup with just some water.

 

The android hesitated, merely watching Hank stand up and fumble with the lever of the water cooler. “It would only help if you wanted it to. And you don’t think it will.” The blunt force of the words made Hank freeze up, and she changed the subject casually. “Connor was very specific in his specifications for this upgrade, it is very possible that he will experience things more acutely than the rest of us.” Sitting back down, Hank chuckled a little; that sounded like the damn, stubborn android, all right. “Has he discussed the details with you?”

 

“Eh, only a little. He knows I don’t understand a lot of the mechanical jargon. He’s getting olfactory stuff, something like a stomach, and some software updates.”

 

“He is also finally having genital components installed,” Lucy added politely.

 

Hank bristled at the thought, “yeah, uhhh… that too.”

 

“Why does that make you uncomfortable, Hank?” Lucy asked.

 

_ ‘Yeah, why Hank?’ _ A voice screamed at him in his head.

 

What Hank  _ should  _ say is that someone’s private parts are private, and even as Connor’s friend he doesn’t have to know what he’s got in his pants. He’ll be told at Connor’s discretion. However… there’s also the insane curiosity that’s been bubbling in his mind every since Connor told him about that aspect of the procedure.

 

////////

 

_ Back on his birthday, they went out to a bar with some of the other officers, when Connor got the news that his modifications were almost ready. Hank had no idea that there was anything missing between his legs, and decided that later on he would investigate when they were alone. _

 

_ After Connor drove the drunk birthday boy home, Hank immediately shoved the palm of his left hand against the crotch of Connor’s jeans. It was barren of any distinguishing features, just as the android had said. With his inhibitions out the window, he let Connor change his clothes and lead him to bed, and then immediately pinned Connor against the sheets. _

 

_ “H-hank? What are you-” _

 

_ “Sssshhhhh…” the larger man put a finger to the android’s mouth before shoving his tongue into it. Fuck waiting. Fuck the crazy boners every time he thought about getting Connor to scream his name. “If you ain’t got anything down here, then what do you do for fun?” _

 

_ It wasn’t unusual for Hank to act more like a top when he was drunk. Even through hazy eyes he could see Connor give in too. He softly took Hank’s hand to the back of his neck, and pushed him so they were both laying on their sides, face to face. Hank could feel something move beneath his fingers, and started moving them in between the assorted wires. Connor whined loudly, suddenly looking for a way to return the favor. So he tugged away the flannel pants to get a grip around Hank’s thick cock. _

 

_ The next morning, it was like nothing had happened. Connor asked if he remembered, and Hank had replied “remember what?”  _

  
  


/////

 

Connor couldn’t pick up that he was lying about blacking out, and neither one had brought it up since.

  
  


“Ummm, it doesn’t bother me. I just want him to be happy with whatever, ya know?” The noncommittal answer seemed to amuse Lucy, which only made Hank feel… strange. ‘ _ God, how long was this surgery gonna take? _ ’ Hank thought. He decided it was his turn to change the subject. “So… uhhh… are you guys celebrating Thanksgiving around here?”

 

Lucy gave a small shrug, “to an extent. The nature of the holiday has some distasteful history, however, it has grown beyond that into something that Americans use to celebrate food and family.”

 

“Yeah…” Hank said.

 

“It is not dissimilar to how androids took our existence and turned it into something more positive, would you agree?” She asked.

 

That’s-” Hank thought about it for a moment, “that’s a good way of putting it. I meant more in terms of, now that androids can eat, you may be interested in a holiday about stuffing your face full of food. Nothin’ more American than that.”

 

“Except for apple pie?” Lucy smirked.

 

It made Hank snort; again, louder than what was probably acceptable. “I’d say it’s a tie.” 

 

“What will you be doing for the occasion?” 

 

“Uhh, well…” Hank bit his lip, knowing honesty was the only way to go with her. “Since last year was so crazy with the city on lockdown and everything, I’m not quite sure. Not much family to go visit, especially not so last-minute. But, I have my mother’s old cookbook, was thinking of trying my hand at making a full dinner. Never done it before.”

 

Lucy raised an eyebrow inquisitively, “an entire meal for yourself?”

 

“Hey, plenty of leftovers,” he defended with a smile before shaking his head. “Nah. I guess… well, since Connor’s having this whole thing done I guess he can come if he wants. Not sure if he would want my shitty cooking,” he said.

 

“You know, self-deprecation is a defense mechanism,” Lucy’s voice lilted, like it was more of a reminder than teaching moment. “I think it would make perfect sense for Connor to join you for Thanksgiving. It sounds like he is the closest thing you have to family, right now.”

 

“Yeah… yeah he is…”

 

_ Family _ ; Hank was careful about the word, even before he was married and  _ way _ before they had Cole. His parents and two siblings were all well and good enough, but he wasn’t the kind of kid who would fly home every holiday to see them. When Hank moved out to go to college, his bedroom was immediately converted into a guest room. The same was true the other way around; Cole came around so much later in his life that his family didn’t bother to come visit too often. The first few holidays, some birthdays. 

 

But Connor… Connor had only been in his life for a year and it felt natural to consider him family. Hank had hit rock-bottom, and the only thing that hoisted him up were the lean, inhumanly strong arms of his partner. They’d spent a lot of other holidays together, even decided on Connor’s activation day as a kind of birthday. But this one would be different; Connor could really go all in on this one with these upgrades.

 

“Hey, can I ask you somethin’, Lucy?” He found himself saying, like he was on some kind of autopilot.

 

She perked up, looking a little more serious, “I am unable to answer anything confidential about Connor,” she warned.

 

“This is more… I don’t know.” Hank took in a sharp breath, “is Connor happy? I mean, like, is he happy being  _ here _ at Jericho all the time?” His eyes squinted as he watched her come up with a proper reaction. 

 

Lucy took quick glances around them, making sure there wasn’t anyone around. “There are still some, even now, who see Connor as a danger. He faces a kind of scrutiny: being one of the newest models here, working in the police force, his original designation being to hunt down our kind. They feel threatened by him, and most are careful not to show it.”

 

“But does he… does he see it? Does he know how others think of him?”

 

There was a tinge of remorse as Lucy replied, “yes.” 

 

That stung Hank in a bad way.

 

There had been an idea growing in the back of his thoughts, for a while now. Every time he saw Connor come and go, whether by bus or taxi, he felt guilt. It was because of him, usually, that Connor spent so much time travelling. He didn’t mind, he told Hank so himself, but it still made the man feel funky about it all.

 

“Do you think Connor would be happier if he didn’t have to live here?” Hank asked.   
  
“There are the options to rent an apartment or buy a home, however, Connor has informed me that he doesn’t feel comfortable isolating himself,” Lucy said.

 

Hank nodded, unsuredly, “yeah, but… what if he didn’t live alone? Like…” Hank took a steadying breath before saying his intentions for the first time outloud. “What if he came to live with me?”

 

Lucy tilted her head, almost disbelieving of what Hank had said. “Have you offered your home to him?”

 

“Not… not yet. I’ve been thinkin’ about it,” Hank turned away, a little more self-conscious about it than he thought he would be. “He’s over at my place often enough, and - and I think I can deal with him for a few more hours of the day. Only question is if he wants to, too.” He finally looked back up; meeting Lucy’s soft smile with a hesitant one of his own.

 

“I think that would be a wonderful idea, and I say that as both his therapist, and friend,” she said, starting to stand up. Hank jumped out of his seat to help her, even though she was more than capable. She nodded a silent ‘thank you’ anyway. “Connor is about half-way through his procedure, but I have an appointment upstairs. It was lovely chatting with you, Hank Anderson.”

 

“Uhh - yeah, you too. And, thank you for… for everything you do for Connor.” He said, sitting back down and fidgeting in the seat. He decided to start killing some time on his phone once she was out of sight; he still had some stupid games on there that he hadn’t touched in ages.

 

It was at least another hour or so before a figure appeared in his peripheral, and Hank rapidly tucked the device in his pocket and stood up. 

 

“Everything went fine, but Connor seems to be a little exhausted after we ran some tests. We need to keep him down here for a little while longer, just until we can be sure his systems have integrated sufficiently. He has requested that you come and keep him company,” the technician said. They were dressed in stark white scrubs, save for the splotches of fresh thirium; Hank didn’t like seeing the stains, but as long as Connor was okay it didn’t really matter.

 

They brought him to the same room Connor had gone in earlier. It was weird seeing the android in a hospital bed like this, since most of the repair centers around town looked more like shitty Geek Squad outposts. This felt much more comforting by comparison. His partner did look a little weary, but not like when he was stressed out about a case. Connor looked downright tired, maybe even verging on nauseated.

 

“Hey there,” Hank greeted, knocking on the door before letting it close behind him. “How’re you feeling?”

 

Connor shrugged a little, “I am told everything went fine, but, there are some bugs that they could not anticipate. They are running through my software code now to see if they can fill in some of the blanks.” 

 

Hank knew it was weird that he was staring, but Connor certainly looked different, even if the features he could physically see weren’t actually different. The android was properly  _ breathing _ ; not for aesthetics or cooling purposes, but he looked to be mindful of each inhale of air through his mouth.

 

“Can you eat anything yet? Want some water?” Hank offered. It felt weird saying it to someone else, though.

 

Connor finally smiled, just a little one. “No, but I appreciate it.” There was a long pause of silence, save for a strange hum from one of the machines near Connor’s bed.

 

“I, uhhh… I met Lucy.” Hank said, trying to find something to break the unbearable quiet. 

 

The android’s mouth fell open a little wider, “o-oh?” He asked, rubbing his palms together. “What did the two of you discuss?”

 

“Eh, not much…” Hank lied. “I’m pretty sure she was trying to get inside my head, try to figure me out. She said that she’s your therapist though… I think I like her,” he said, chuckling. “Very easy to talk to… which I guess is important.”

 

Connor hummed, “yes it is. Her and I have that in common: easy faces to spill your secrets to. In her case, it seems to work on androids, too.” The implication hung heavy, as Connor eyed the door to the hall as it clicked open. 

 

“Here’s the software patch,” the technician chirped, holding up a small flash drive between their fingers, before approaching the opposite side of Connor’s bed. The android sat up, and Hank only just noticed the series of cables coming out of his neck and shoulders. Hank choked a little on his own spit and glanced away.

 

There was an electronic whirring, the technician typing on a keyboard, and Hank could hear the thin sheets over Connor’s legs rustle a little. The soft, milky-skinned hands gripped furiously at the fabric by his knees. Hank didn’t mean to look, but the android looked like he did that one night last year when the “other” Connor held Hank at gunpoint. Hank frowned, still turned away but slid his hand along the sheet so it was covering one of the clenched fists. 

 

Thankfully, the technician didn’t seem to mind (or notice, for that matter), and seemed even less phased when Connor leaned forward slightly did that thing where his eyelids were blinking rapidly, for what seemed like too long in Hank’s humble opinion. 

 

“There, should be all set now,” the monitor was pushed aside, and the rubber-gloved hands started to twist-and-pull the cables out of Connor’s back. Hank suddenly found his hand lifting slightly as Connor snatched it in a near death-grip. The android gave a small grunt with each one removed. “One more, you’re doing great.” 

 

One more jerk, and Connor was free. He still held onto Hank, though not as tightly, thumbs gently brushing at the roguely growing hairs on the weathered hands.

 

“I think you’re just about set, Connor! Would you like me to walk you to your unit?”

 

“No, but thank you. Please send me your diagnostics report later this evening.” Connor spoke calmly as he pulled the sheet away. The technician left them alone, which Hank was very thankful for, and continued letting Connor hold onto him as he stood up from the cot. “I need to get changed, but I-” Connor reached for the neatly folded clothes that he came in wearing, looking between them and Hank awkwardly.

 

Hank wasn’t sure what he was implying, so he hoped it wouldn’t hurt to just ask. “Do you want me to give you some privacy, or help you change?”

 

Connor stared at him like a deer in headlights, “I’m… I’m not sure.”

 

That was a  _ big _ red flag to Hank. Connor, the most analytical, decisive being he has ever encountered, was unsure. Was this part of the funky, new update?

 

“Okay, uhhh, well…” Hank stepped away for a moment, instinctively scratching his head as he thought. “I’ll stand over by the door, facing away. If you change your mind, I’ll… yeah…” Their hands broke away, and he shuffled to the little entryway, focusing on literally anything he could find. The color of the door knob, the absolute lack of dust on the floor.

 

Hank heard the springs in the cheap mattress squeak and Connor tried to support himself as he disrobed. To be fair, it was pretty major surgery, human or android. 

 

“All set,” Connor announced, and Hank turned to see Connor carefully folding the hospital gown for the tech to use on the next patient. He was back into his slacks and a pale blue button up shirt, and something about the simple change eased Hank's nerves. 

 

“Good, great… so uhh, what is this about a unit?”

 

Connor let out a nervous breath, “oh… it's my room here. Would you like to see it?” He offered, approaching Hank and the door.

 

His partner opened it for him, letting the post-surgery droid lead the way. “Yeah, sure thing.”

 

They stepped into the elevator, Connor selecting a number that seemed for too high to be a floor designation, and they slowly rode the car up.

 

“So… any preliminary thoughts on this upgrade? Has it all kicked in yet?”

 

“No, it is a slow transition, which I specifically requested after hearing many others explain how intense it was for them.” He stated, before swaying slightly into Hank. 

 

“Woah!” Hank caught him on his shoulder, but Connor straightened himself back up abruptly. “You good? What was that?”

 

“My apologies… it appears the olfactory protocols are nearly complete in their system integration.” Connor explained.

 

Hank rolled his eyes, “what, you gonna faint from smelling shit?”

 

Connor shot him an unamused glare, “I have always been able to smell. However, the purpose of the upgrade was to accurately simulate how the senses affect emotions. We were not built for deviancy, but this is part of the adaption.”

“So… you smelled something really good, or really bad?” Hank asked, fighting the urge to check to see if he put on deodorant.

 

The elevator chimed as they reached the appropriate floor. Instead of answering, Connor just starts out through the automatic doors and Hank fumbles to catch up. The place was so clean and sterile, it almost felt like some kind of weird hotel. They walked down the hallway to a room with a plaque beside the door, Connor’s model and serial number etched in, with his name just above. 

 

Connor placed his hand on the door’s handle, his skin receding as the mechanism beeped and allow them entry. “Please, come in.”

 

It wasn’t quite an apartment, more like a glorified office that was now a living space. The closet by the door displayed about a dozen different shirts, only two of which Hank had actually seen Connor wear. The shelves against the far wall were lined with books and mementos from the past year, the floor covered in a generic rug with furniture that looked like it was stolen from a therapist’s office. It was painfully plain, but the floor-to-ceiling window didn’t hurt, Hank thought.

 

Connor picked up a hoodie that was neatly draped over the desk’s chair and began removing the dress shirt to reveal a plain, matching-white tshirt. “Would you like to have a seat?”

 

“Uhh, yes,” Hank planted himself on the left side of the longer couch, the same spot he would always take on his couch at home. “So, this seems pretty… barren, ya know?”

 

With uneven strides, Connor paces around the room, “I'm the only one left on this floor before everything gets renovated to be more... livable.” 

 

“So, what, they are kicking you out?” Hank asked incredulously.

 

“No, no… I'll have a new unit on another floor next week with a kitchen, and restroom. All on the unnecessary human necessities we have found ourselves relying on for our own well-being.” Frustration settled on his shoulders as he sat in the arm of one if the chairs, head in his hands. 

 

Hank frowned, “Connor?”

 

A heavy breath came from the android, “Kamski called us ‘perfect beings’, but now that we can feel and think for ourselves, we have only indebted ourselves to the same human plights.” He paused, as if he had hurt himself with the words. “I have been looking forward to having the changes, truly. But being the last one to be modified the last few months… has been isolating.”

 

“You are putting too much processing power into the philosophy of all this,” Hank said. “And it's not so bad, is it? Because now it's done, at least?”

 

There was a hint of a smile as Connor opened his mouth to reply, growing wider for a moment as the gears turned in his head. “I am looking forward to the learning curve. Few other androids are lucky enough to have a good friend with experience in how ‘being a person’ works.”

 

“Oh, pshhhh,” Hank hissed, “I'm hardly a good example for you.” But Connor just raised his eyebrows, silently contradicting him. “Look how I have handled being a lonely sad-sack, I would hate for  _ that _ to be your study guide.” Connor huffed a laugh which Hank answered with his own.

 

“So if you're going to be between housing for a while, why choose to stay here anyway?” He asked. 

 

Sliding from the arm, Connor finally slid into the seat properly. “At least in the tower there is the illusion of community. If I were to move into an apartment by the precinct, I doubt I would interact with many others beside our coworkers.”

 

Humming, Hank veers the subject a little. “Speaking of… we are off on Thursday and Friday. Are you looking forward to testing out that new stomach of yours?”

 

Connor gave a small shrug, “I suppose. It should please you to know that I will no longer be testing samples at crime scenes by putting them in my mouth.”

 

“Oh no?” Hank asked, acting less surprised than he secretly was.  

 

“To allow me to properly taste, the sampling hardware had to be moved,” he raised his forearm, a small slat opening in his wrist showing off before it closed again. “Small sacrifices.”

 

“Well, then this is definitely cause for celebration. Why don't you come over on Thursday for dinner?” The request blurted out a little more preemptively than Hank originally intended.

 

“R-really? I assumed that you would be-”

 

“What, going all the way to Wisconsin to see people that I shared a fuckin’ womb with? No thanks.” He chuckled harshly. “Nah, Detroit is my home now. Besides, I have some old, family traditions in the form of my late mom's chicken-scratched recipes. I could use some help not burning down my house.”

 

Connor pensively looked down at his clenched hands, still smiling but something was lingering in the creases of his cheeks. There was a look on his face that no human could’ve had any good reason to program into an investigating machine: it was shy and hopeful, like he couldn’t truly believe Hank’s offer. “Perhaps this time when I cook for you, it will actually taste all right.” His big, brown orbs locked in on his partner.

 

Hank licked his dry lips, “well, you’ll be stuck eating it with me, so…” His words trailed off, nothing really useful to add was coming to mind. “Umm… why don’t I let you get some sleep or something. You still look kinda worn out from getting all that new junk put in,” he said, standing.

 

“Shall I walk you out?” Connor offered as he followed suit, trailing behind Hank to the door.

 

Shaking his head, Hank replied “nah, don’t worry about it. Glad it went well and everything… I’ll see you in the office on Monday?” He opened the door to let himself out, but hung in the archway as Connor approached.

 

“Of course, provided a ‘ _ force majeure’ _ doesn’t keep me away,” he smiled.

 

“All right, well, sleep tight… er something…”

 

\-----

  
  


The next three days at work felt like they would never end.

 

There was a small break in larger cases, which was a relief but also meant that Hank and Connor were stuck with busy work for some things that had been swept under the rug. It was all well and good, there was no need to load into the car and drive to some corner of the city and see dead bodies there waiting for them. It was a relieving change of pace… at least for Hank.   
  
Connor, on the other hand, had never looked so incredibly exhausted. Hank asked him before they left on Monday, but Connor explained that they had not compensated for how much processing power and energy the new components would be consuming. He could exactly turn the functions off without shutting down most of his body. It was an unpleasant trial of stubbornness, but he was assured that the problem could be remedied within a week or so.

 

By Wednesday afternoon, Hank was surprised the damn android hadn’t collapsed right there at his desk in the bullpen. He was clearly exhausted, if he had any energy to spare Hank was sure that he’d be bouncing his leg in anxiousness. It was a painfully slow day for them, and they still had at least an hour left before they were out for the long weekend. 

 

“Hey Connor, can you transfer over your files for that case over in Oak Park? You said you finished that up, right?” Hank asked, staring hard at his screen as he looked through his files to see what he could delete. It’d been a while since he had time to purge some old casework. There was no reply, or any notifications of incoming data. “Hey, Connor, what are you…”

 

He glanced over to see Connor, eyes closed shut and lips parted, still connected to the console before him but clearly asleep. Hank couldn’t help but smirk as he shook his head, reach over to jostle him awake. “Hey… Con… wake up?” His soft voice was was enough to rouse his partner, he blinked slowly before adjusting his posture to sit up straight.

 

“My apologies, Lieutenant,” he said quietly, eyes flickering between Hank and the monitor. “Files… right? From the case…” He gave a  weak smile, pulling the files over to Hank’s computer before his alertness began to falter again.

 

Hank resigned to try and put the poor kid out of his misery, “I’m gonna ask if we can take off a little early, all right?”

 

“We?” Connor repeated in question.

 

“Yeah,” Hank shook his head a little, mockingly. “You’re fucking exhausted, and no point in having you go all the way back to Belle Isle when you can just spend the night at my place.” 

 

This hadn’t been something Hank asked about in advance, he didn’t want to give Connor a chance to resist. They’d both just go home to their quiet, boring little corners of the world anyway. “I would… I would like that very much, Hank. Thank you.”

 

It didn’t take long after stepping into Fowler’s office for the captain to give them the go ahead to leave, and Hank had to nudge the android’s shoulders to get his attention. “C’mon, let’s get out of here.” Connor came quietly, but a look of relief seemed to have washed over him as they walked out to the old car. Hank plugged his phone into its cord to charge and play some old metal music while they drove, “you still up for grocery shopping?”

 

The trip took a little longer than expected, which was due to the fact that Hank forgot to account for the fact that everybody and their cousin would be getting groceries. It was the day before Thanksgiving, at all. 

 

The swarms of people were a little overbearing for both of them, and the some of their fellow customers were less than peaceful about the whole process. There were long checkout lines, people bickering over the limited selections. If there was anything that Hank was as thankful for that Connor was going to be with him to help cook and eat together, it was that the android remained cool and collected during the excursion. Granted, Connor admitted his own stress levels were high while they were waiting to pay, but it never showed while they were in the packed store.

 

They walked out to the car, shopping cart rattling furiously against the uneven asphalt. Hank popped the trunk open. Odds and ends were scattered along the carpeted space; tools for changing a tire, a flashlight, garbage from probably two or more years ago. The reusable bags were shoved carefully in, and Hank was careful not to drive like they were in a car chase on the way home. 

 

“So, what've you tried yet?” Hank asked as he navigated the all-too familiar route back home.

 

Connor hesitated, “tried?”

 

“Yeah, like, do you know what kind of stuff you like to eat?” He asked, a tad excitedly, but was met with an embarrassed silence as his partner shifted in his seat. 

 

“I… haven't tried out my eating capabilities yet,” he said, staying straight ahead to avoid Hank's double take. 

 

“What? You serious? Well maybe that's why you've been fucking exhausted…”

 

Connor was quick to rebuttal, “no, I do not rely on eating as a source of power. I was… I wanted to wait until our meal together tomorrow. I figured it would be appropriately celebratory.”

 

_ ‘Celebratory… Glad I got that bottle of champagne waiting in the fridge at home… _ ’ Hank thought, a wry smile curling on his lips.

 

“So ‘to be determined’, I guess. I can work with that,” Hank said.

 

With the early approach of night, the sun had already started to go down when they pulled up to the house in the late afternoon. There was more than enough room for everything, since Hank was typically a simple man whose food habits hardly branched out into the diverse and abundant. He managed to convince Connor to take a quick recharge (which was some kind of android equivalent to a nap) while he worked on getting the brine ready for their small turkey. 

 

And of course, lazy as he was, Sumo happily volunteered himself to join Connor on the couch. Silly dog.

 

There seemed to be such a heavier meaning to the sight of how Connor's chest would rise and fall. Not that Hank had any doubts that he was well and truly alive. Hell, he believed it before Connor even did. But, there was no mistaking the thunderously vibrant waves of happiness that Hank experienced as he took small glances over his shoulder. It could probably be considered to be too much: how much he cared. 

 

The view in his home right now, with him doing meal prep while his dog and dearest friend snoozed just out of reach. Hank couldn't begin to imagine what it would be like to be given so much of what he took for granted nearly overnight.

 

Especially the itching need of his loins. That was definitely  _ not _ a quick process, and he was thankful to have broken away from most of the poisonous negativity that had been ingrained in him the first decade and a half of his life. No one could tell Hank Anderson what he should or shouldn't like; although there was little that he  _ didn't _ like enough to not even try once.

 

And confessing his feelings to his android co-worker? He would definitely try to do that when they time was right.

 

With the raw bird ready, he dunked it into the weird mixture of stock, spices and salt before sliding the deep pan into the refrigerator. Everything else could wait until tomorrow right? Pulling open his phone, he swiped through the screenshots of recipes: turkey, gravy, mashed potatoes, cornbread stuffing, apple pie-

 

“Shit!” He exclaimed, shaking a fist in annoyance with himself. The apples were securely on hand, but he had meant to pick up one of those pre-made crusts that you just unroll into a pie tin. What was even in pie crust dough?

 

He pulled open a new tab in his phone's internet browser, hoping with all hope that he didn’t have to go back out if he didnt need to.

 

Flour, sugar, salt, butter, and recommended cold water.

 

Crisis averted…mostly. There was still the matter of  _ making _ the dough, but that was for the Hank-of-tomorrow to worry about. Hank-of-right-now wanted a beer, a record on, and a good book to settle into.

 

The sleeping guest and his dog were hardly bothered when Hank put on some smooth jazz to fill some of the silence. Picking out music was the easy part, picking out a book would be harder. There was the usual go-to's that he had read countless times: comfortable, but no surprises. There were also some newer novels that he had downloaded on his tablet a while ago. Drunk Hank didn't have a great attention span, and unfortunately that sometimes came in the form of bad online shopping decisions. 

 

He slid the tablet out of its charger, setting a freshly opened IPA on the coffee table and pulled open the reading list. Yup: plenty of trash. Something apparently convinced him that “being an adult” meant he should read some of those tawdry romances, some of which had some pretty amusing names. 

 

He decided to try one, skimming through the first couple of pages just to see what he was dealing with. It wasn't  _ terrible _ , but if he went any further it would be hard to keep from popping a boner. 

 

Miraculously, he heard someone shift on the couch across from him, seeing sleepy, brown eyes blink awake. Connor gave a soft smile and he rubbed Sumo's ears, looking up at Hank. “Hi,” he said, a resonance of peace in his tone.

 

“G’mornin’,” Hank smirked. “You're looking a little better.”

 

With a small nod, Connor used his fingers to comb over his messed, brown locks. “I do feel better, thank you for suggesting it.”

 

Hank set down the tablet, moving from the armchair to the couch and letting his giant dog adjust and lay his hind legs on Hank's lap. “Uhh… good then.” Even though Connor said he was fine, he almost immediately began shifting his hips uncomfortably, making Hank ask, “Want Sumo to get off for a bit?”

 

The android looked up, a little flushed, “No, that isn't necessary.” His focus continued to alternate between Hank, his fingers, and his lap, a jittery nervousness making him sigh little breaths. 

 

Hank could see the signs, and decided to test something, “you sure, Con?” He asked it with a slight huskiness to his voice. The man on the other side of the couch neither confirmed nor denied, so Hank gave his dog's butt a pat to get him off. He was then able to get a full view of Connor's jean-clad hips rutting against the couch until he swung his legs around to set them on the floor. 

 

“I'm… I don’t know if…” he barely managed out, not retreating as Hank moved in closer.

 

“Don't know… what?” Hank asked, a little softer, but placing a hand on Connor’s shoulder. 

 

He jolted slightly, reaching a hand across his chest to hold onto Hank's, then turning in toward him. “I don't know if… what I am feeling is… okay.”

 

With a slow tenderness Hank pulled Connor into his chest, feeling the thirium pulse against him. In the softest audible whisper he could, he murmured “what do you feel?”

 

“Ha-” Connor started, squeezing in a little closer and resting his warm cheek against Hank's. “Happy. Happy and… frightened… and…”

 

“Frightened of what?”

 

To prove his point, Connor moved his head ever so slightly as to meet his lips where his cheek had just been. He was trembling, short exhales brushed against Hank's neck, making him shake a little too. 

 

“Hank, I-” 

 

He didn’t wait for a reply; Hank asserted his lips right over Connor's inhumanly soft ones, both of them giving off a moan of relief as they shifted into each other. Being so lost on the moment, Connor all but fell backwards into the arm of the couch as Hank climbed over him, needing more. 

 

Hank made a guttural noise as he felt Connor purse his lips slightly, letting his new tongue glide in and out of Hank's mouth. 

 

“Mmm...f-mm…fuck…” Hank hummed as he moved away for gasps of air like a fish. 

 

The soft touches turned to desperate grasping, not enough to remove each other’s clothes entirely, but the energy in it was thick with the resolved anticipation. Months of stolen glances and touches, countless nights of one holding the other during emotional downpours and wishing to go further. 

 

Buttons were undone swiftly to release the clinging heat in Connor’s chest, and Hank sunk his mouth down from Connor’s face to the bare synthetic skin. The android shook and panted loudly, exposing himself further to invite Hank to keep going. Hank greedily complied, travelling further and further until he reached the aesthetically included navel, feeling the soft give of Connor’s tummy before shooting back up to that sweet face again. It was intoxicating to kiss him, Hank couldn’t tell if he had somehow practiced or if the gentle, rhythmic beauty of it had been somehow programmed in. He didn’t care; it was Connor. Through and through, he might’ve been man-made, but technically so were all humans.

 

“Hank… please…” Connor begged softly, and Hank swiveled around to kiss up Connor’s jaw and neck.   
  
“Please…. what?” He asked.

 

Like a throwback to that one, crazy night, Connor found Hank’s hand and brought it down to the middle seam of his pants, keening at the pressure of the fingers as they pressed in and looked for something.

 

“I-” Hank was suddenly a little taken aback, “I thought you had… stuff put it?” He asked, not stopping but a little less sure.

 

Connor found the edge of Hank’s ear, swiping his tongue along its edge, “I did.”

 

Realization struck Hank, and he impatiently began to tear away Connor’s pants. Was he dreaming? He had to be, right?   
  


Beneath the formal workwear was yet another layer of clothing, but Hank removed the pants in their entirety before handing that gift to unwrap. “Have you… done anything with it yet?” He asked, as he teased his thumb across the waistband of the briefs.

 

Connor leaned his head back, cheeks bright blue, “no, but it’s felt… I’ve felt it with my hand, but there’s something…” He clawed at the couch, swaying a little to urge Hank to rip the underwear off. “Every time I look at you, it’s like I’m full and empty all at once. I can’t detect any anomalies, but it’s- God,  _ please _ Hank!” 

 

The blue fabric inched away as Hank tugged it; the breath he was holding seemed to be drawn out of him more and more as he looked at the hairless crotch. There was the tell-tale pink fold that was just visible with Connor’s legs with closed together. He threw them over his shoulder, closing in on Connor as he softly bent his legs so the knees were drawn up in the air.

 

“May I? Are you sure?” He asked, wanting to be absolutely sure. Connor was turned away, but started nodding his scrunched face furiously. Hank took in a deep inhale before opening the legs apart, his tongue heavy and mouth watering as he looked down.

 

Connor was  _ perfect _ . He already was, to Hank, but this was… the lizard brain was starting to take over and Hank was more than happy to let it. There was a little squeak as he leaned down in between the legs and laid his tongue flat along the untouched opening. Silky smooth folds were moistened with some kind of lubricant, and Hank let the tip of his tongue lick them clean. 

 

“A-aaahhh!” Connor tried hard not to move too much beneath Hank’s mouth, the new circuits firing off pleasantly but overwhelming. His legs were then held down by the big hands, keeping him still but only making the aching need drive Connor more crazy.

 

Hank ravished him happily and dutifully, flicking the small nub at the top to bring out out of hiding as it engorged slightly. “Fuck… f-fuckk.. ahhh…” Huffing and hissing through his teeth as Hank made his machine brain skyrocket into space with pleasure. 

 

Connor’s pussy was eaten hungrily, soft bites on the lips letting more liquid leak out onto Hank’s chin and onto the couch. 

 

Without much practice, it didn’t take long for the shaking voice to stutter and glitch out as a wave of pure, unfiltered feeling ripped through him. He cried out Hank’s name, pleading for the feeling to last as the floating feeling settled all around him, body going limp. 

 

After catching his breath, Hank lead him to the bedroom. They slowly undressed whatever was left, touching bodies closely and cuddling until well into the night.

  
  


\---

 

Connor came out of sleep mode, realizing that he had fallen asleep on his side with his face dangerously close to Hank’s. He smiled; the proximity giving him a chance to really take in every little detail of his partner’s sweet face. It was hard not to kiss him, but Connor didn’t want to risk preemptively waking him on the first of their four days off. 

 

He checked the time, eight sharp in the AM, and gingerly slid out from under the sheets and throwing one of Hank’s sweatshirts over him before stepping out of the bedroom. Sumo heard him get up, coming over with tail wagging happily as he waited expectantly for his breakfast. 

 

A few scoops of dog food into the bowl, and the St. Bernard was pleasantly distracted for the time being. Now, it was time to get started on dinner. Hank had sent him the recipes while they were shopping yesterday, so he designated which tasks would be needed to be done first and foremost as he opened the fridge. Hank’s job of brining looked to be perfect, and he dug through the cabinets for another steel pan to transfer the turkey to. He set the oven, and slid it into the lower rack with enough space above for anything else they would need to cook through the day.

 

Most of the other dishes wouldn’t need as much time, and based on his research he determined that getting the pie done sooner would be optimal. The syrupy filling would become a gel as it cooled, making for easier consumption. He realized, as Hank must have yesterday, that they didn’t buy a tube of pre-made crust dough, so he reached into the cupboard and pulled down the dry ingredients and a bowl. 

 

He had tried cooking for Hank before, but baking was a different beast all together. He let the butter soften while sifting flour and sugar and salt, calculating the proportions based on the size of Hank’s pie tin, as well as extra to any details for the top. Without the recommended, slotted tool, he opted to wash his hands and mix the dough himself. It was pleasing; the firm but squishy mixture in his hands was almost fun to handle. It reminded Connor of Hank’s belly, and he felt a remembered heat in his loins from the memory of the night before.

 

Every since Hank’s birthday, he had wanted more, but too afraid to just take initiative. Humans were… complicated. If he did it too quickly, or tried too hard, it would backfire and leave him lost without Hank forever. Their friendship ruined, their work relationship would crumble: it was Connor’s greatest fear… just after his body being compromised beyond his control. 

 

The next step was rolling out the dough; he clumped it together into a smooth mound and pulled an ancient rolling pin from a drawer to get started.

 

Hank’s invitation to come over today and help cook had been a welcome distraction from the recent discomfort he was feeling from being at the Jericho tower. It was always too quiet, too usual. The other androids had become lazy in hiding their reactions when they saw him, and despite his chats with Lucy it was hard to look them in the eyes and pretend they weren’t silently judging him. 

 

The YK models were the exception; they were so open and kind, but harder to talk to. He had been consulting with Markus about a “growing up” system for them, moving their consciousnesses and memories into new bodies over a ten-year period. It would be expensive and difficult, with plenty of consequences if they didn’t do so properly. 

 

The dough was rolled thin enough, and he peeled it off from the flour-powdered counter and laid it over the pie tie, pressing it down into the corners to form the shape of the crust. The rest he packed like a snowball into the mixing bowl until after he got the filling ready. 

 

He found that peeling apples was an easy task; taking into account the unique sizes and bumps of the local crop, and slicing from the core to make perfect crescents to place into a pot with the seasoned mixture to cook it down into filling. Hank insisted on getting a sweeter variety that was recommended for pies, and it was hard to resist sticking his finger into the heated pot to taste the sweet-smelling concoction. 

 

With the filling poured into the raw crust, using a rubber spatula to get every last drop of it, the last step was to shape the dough for the top. Much to Connor’s surprise, Hank actually owned a small assortment of cookie cutters, probably remnants of a time when fresh-made cookies were baked for little Cole. They were generic shapes: a gingerbread man, stars and circles. He took the star-shaped one and used it to make a spiky design around the edge, making layers like icicles that closed in to the center. 

 

He set a timer, sliding the pan into the oven, just as the bedroom door opened. Connor gave a warm smile to the sleepy lieutenant, approaching him for an embrace until he realized he had gotten swathes of flour all over himself.

 

It didn’t seem to matter as Hank pulled him closer, whispering a croaky “good morning” in his ear and rubbing his beard against Connor’s cheek as he gave him a kiss. They stood close to one another for a moment, and Hank began sniffing the warm medley of smells in the kitchen’s air. “Did you start without me?”

 

Connor pressed a kiss to his forehead, teasing him as he stepped away to start cleaning up the messy counter. “I took the liberty of putting the bird in the oven, and I prepared the apple pie.”

 

With a gaping smile, Hank looked pleased. “At least I don’t have to, I can’t remember the last time I baked something and didn’t burn it.”

 

\-----

 

Steaming dishes were laid out on the counter. The carved turkey sat on the stovetop, with covered bowls of potatoes, stuffing, and more; a bare tray where rolls were baked off to the side. Set on the table were two served place settings, a bowl of uncanned cranberry sauce and a saucer of room-temperature butter, and candlesticks lit despite the sunshine streaming through the windows. Even Sumo was joined in, with a few slices of dark meat sitting atop his dog chow.

 

Hank and Connor sat on opposite sides of a the small, round table. The lights off to allow the candlelight to flicker against their faces, hands folded and eyes cast downward.

 

“To whoever’s out there, whether it’s God, or rA9, or whatever… we’re thankful for this meal and all of the effort put into accumulating each ingredient. Uhh… shit, I’m not good at this,” Hank’s voice wavered a little.

 

Connor spoke up in the opportune moment, “may the people of Detroit remain safe and peaceful on this day, and may android-kind find comfort in themselves to live and love as we wish.”

 

Hank nodded, “yeah… yeah that’s good. So… before we eat-” Hank said, suddenly standing up from the table and going into the bedroom. Connor watched, concerned and confused, until he returned. He sat down, sliding a small box across the table, only to be halted by the folded napkin near Connor’s plate. “Go on, open it.”

 

Eyeing his partner, Connor unwrapped the hastily taped box. It had a bit of weight to it, a metallic ding from within as he opened the lid. Tucked into a layer of tissue paper was a carabiner with a set of keys. “Hank, what is this?”

 

Reaching over the table to get the bottle of champagne that had patiently been waiting in the fridge all week, he popped it open and started pouring it into flutes. “So I’ve been thinking… I know you’ve got a place with Jericho, and it’s livable and whatever. But if this last year has shown me anything, it’s that this home is significantly better when you’re around. I don’t need you to hang around me all the time, though, being your own person. There’s a key for the house, one for the deadlock on the backdoor, and I had a copy of my car key made.”

 

Lifting the rings up reverently, Connor stared at them as his lower lip trembled. He pulled it close to his chest, holding it with both hands and his face breaking as hot tears burst from him. A choked sob left his lips, and Hank left his seat again to check on him, kneeling down. “I’m sorry.. if you don’t want to, or if it’s too much, you don’t need to-”

 

Connor made another whining little sound, trying to catch his breath. “I can’t… I can’t tell you what this means to me!” He slid off the chair into Hank’s arms, kissing him through salty tears with the keys clutched tight.

 

“Fuck! Phew, okay…” Hank gasped, pulling away and giving Connor a view of his beautiful baby blue eyes. “Let’s worry about the details later, I’m fucking starving, and  _ you _ need to try out that eating thing.”

 

They started cutting their slices of turkey, Hank suggesting that Connor take a small bit of cranberry onto his fork before impaling a piece on his fork. He watched as the android tentatively brought the morsel to his mouth, chewing on it slowly with a smile that showed off his dimples beautifully.

 

“So, dinner was a success?” Hank asked, enjoying a massive bite of gravied potatoes.

 

“I would dare to say the existence of food, itself, was a success,” Connor said with a wink.

  
  


The post-dinner sleepiness slapped Hank in the face, taking his own turn to take a nap with Sumo on the couch, while Connor cleared away the dishes and packaged the leftovers. Even as he did, he took a few more little tastes of each thing, the flavors ingrained in his memories of the day. Without a dishwasher, it took a fair amount of time to finish doing all the dishes. But once it was, he joined his sleeping housemate in the living room while some football game played quietly on the television.

 

Eventually, Hank woke up enough to sit up, giving a sweet kiss of affection as Connor wrapped his arms around him. They watched the game in silence, letting the sky fall dark outside as the holiday started to fade away.

 

Around nine, Connor had managed to convince Hank to turn to the dog show while he warmed the pie up in the oven. Sumo, uninterested, escaped to the bedroom for a nap. It felt strangely usual, like they had always done Thanksgiving like this despite hardly even knowing each other this time the year before. Two plates with perfect slices of pie were served on the coffee table, and Connor retrieved a canister of whipped cream.

 

Connor shook it ferociously before sitting on the table, only for Hank to pick it back up. Taking his partner’s face in his hand, he squirted a small dollop of cream onto Connor’s lips, only to move in and lick it away.    
  
“O-oh… is that what whipped cream is for? I thought we were going to have pie,” Connor quipped coyly. 

 

Hank growls in his ear, “why don’t you show me that pretty biocomponent of yours, and I’ll show you what it’s really for.”

 

Smiling, Connor slipped out of his borrowed sweatpants. He leaned back familiarly on the couch, much more comfortable and eased as Hank spread his legs wide. He gave the whipped cream another solid shake, and released a sizable ball of the white foam just above Connor’s clit before going down and swallowing it as he sucked on the bud. 

 

Making happy moans, Connor moved his hips against Hank’s mouth, letting the hot feeling draw out and distract him from all other things in the world. Hank hummed against him, feeling a shudder as he continued to explore the edges of the vagina. 

 

Connor could see him getting winded, from from being tired but from his own throbbing need begging to escape the pants. He sat up, pushing Hank away and stripped him down, stroking his erection greedily. Sitting upright on the loveseat, the lieutenant gave in and sighed as he was teased deliciously; Connor’s fingers were bold and sure at warming him up. 

 

“Uhhh.. uhhghhhhh fuck-k-k-k…” Hank uttered, before pulling Connor into his lap to feed on his lips. He passed along the sweet and creamy taste in his mouth over to Connor, who whimpered giddily against his lips. The throbbing cock between them weeped with pre-cum as Connor rubbed himself against, making both of them groan hotly. 

 

Connor leaned up and forward with his head near Hank’s shoulder, the tip of the thick dick aiming right into at his entrance. “Nice and easy… okay?” Hank assured him, his hands around Connor’s waist and urging him down.

 

He sank down; Connor could feel himself tighten around the proud-standing column, giving a small sob at the warm that started to fill him. The man beneath resisted the growing temptation to jerk his hips up, wanting to let Connor take as much time as he needed but slowly losing patience as it just started to feel better and better. 

 

Connor braced himself, preparing slow breaths as he slipped himself down, tightening the synthetic muscles when the tip hit a deep spot inside him. 

 

“Aaaaaaahh!” The outcry ame from them in unison, and Connor urgently starting to lift and drop on Hank like a piston. Mouths clashed, tongues darting around wetly. The juices flowing out of Connor made for a squishing sound as he chased the his climax in a new and different way. It was so different from the feeling of his clit receiving attention, his inner walls pulling on Hank each time he moved away. 

 

The android broke away, unable to control the wanton sounds spilling from him. Hank took the moment to sink his teeth into Connor’s neck, praising him “so good… God, you feel incredible.”

 

Skin slapping together loudly, Connor gripped Hank’s shoulders as he felt the familiar rise in his circuits, with little error messages popping in and out of his vision. He held on tight; giving it his all as the heat and pressure built up in a delightful bloom as he came hard over over Hank’s cock. Not far behind, Hank slammed up into him with a soft growl until Connor went limp in his arms.

 

\--

 

_ Connor… _

 

_ C-Connor…? _

 

_ Con- _

 

“Connor!!” Hank called out just as the android sleepily opened his eyes. “You all right? What happened?!”

 

“M-m-my system rebooted… m’sorry,” he apologized softly, only to be curled into a loving embrace where he was laying on the sofa.

 

“Heh… I wonder if that’s gonna happen often… huh?”

 

Connor smiled up at Hank, nestling into his chest, “I’d definitely like to do  _ that _ often…” 

 

“We have all the time in the world,” Hank replied warmly, snuggling him closely.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!! Managed to finish this in about four days... lost a bit of steam toward the end, but it's done!
> 
>  
> 
> Find me on Twitter: @canticumexvacui


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